grieving with hope

I was lying in bed recently tossing and turning trying to get back to sleep. However, sleep was escaping me. I was fretful and consumed with thoughts of the future. Spreading Grant’s ashes, where will I find the strength? Our first Thanksgiving and Christmas without him, the emptiness. As grandkids start coming, the realization there will never be an Uncle Grant. Colton and Charissa’s weddings without their big brother there. As I played the pending scenarios over and over in my mind I became more and more anxious and fearful.  Where will I find the courage to face these and countless other situations waiting for me?

But I need to remember God does not give me the grace to walk through something that has not yet happened.  He does not supply the grace for the fears of my imagination.  Whatever particular situation my mind conjures up, if God calls me to walk through that trial, then and only then, will He supply the grace for it.  I can be certain He will give me the strength I need, when I need it (2 Corinthians 12:9). I can do it for I know He will not let me be tested beyond what I can endure (1 Corinthians 10:13). I know He will give me the strength I need for each day (Deuteronomy 33:25) and I know His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23).

Weariness and hopelessness come when I look to the future with today’s supply of strength and grace.  God promises me strength for tomorrow, but not until tomorrow.  The reservoir of grace I have for today won’t last for tomorrow.  Tomorrow will have its own supply of sustaining grace and strength. As John Piper says, “We tend to despair when we think we have to bear tomorrow’s load on today’s resources.  Today’s mercies are for today’s troubles.  You do not receive today, the strength to bear tomorrow’s burdens.”

I won’t even think on tomorrow, because I know God will supply me with the strength and grace I need, as I need it, in perfect time and in perfect measure.  I only need to think on today and so I can say with quiet assurance, “Yes Lord, I can do this today.”

I had a dream about Grant the other night. Everything was normal, the old normal. We were talking on the phone, him telling me a story about something that had happened at work. We were laughing. Then, as it happens in dreams, the next moment we were together sharing breakfast at the little Farmer’s Market a few blocks from his old apartment. We sat there catching up on life, people watching, and talking about what we wanted to do that day.  And then it happened. I woke up. As I laid there in that twilight stage between asleep and reality, I had to wrap my brain around the fact that it was just a dream and I was waking up into the nightmare. It’s awful and gut wrenching as my mind absorbs again the reality.

Mornings, after dreams of Grant, make me so incredibly grateful that there is a day coming that I will close my eyes and wake up into the dream. Everything horrible I’ve experienced here, will be nothing more than a nightmare, a bad dream. And the nightmare will only serve to increase my joy, as I wake to the dream of eternity.

Christ bought us the possibility of an afterlife without pain and suffering, no more nightmares. Revelation 21:4 He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore… 

But we tend to judge God by the time we spend here on Earth. We judge critically if all of our dreams fail to come true. But who would complain to God if He allowed one nightmare in a lifetime of dreams? And yet we bitterly complain about the nightmare when in reality it’s one nightmare in an eternity of dreams.

Lord, when I awake from a dream into the nightmare, remind me that there is a day coming that all of this will be reversed. I will one day close my eyes and wake to the dream, eternity’s dream. And when I look back to the nightmare from eternity’s perspective, I will not be impressed by its length, horror, or fear. In eternity, it will be nothing more than a bad dream in the distant past I can hardly even recall.

I stand in the waves. They come rolling in, one after another. They pound against me, knocking me off balance. I barely get my bearings and the next one is right there threatening to knock me over. There’s a short reprieve, I catch my breath, get my footing, and the next one rolls in on me.  I look out beyond the break and see surfers being tossed to and fro by the billowing sea and strong winds. I am amazed at how much this scene reminds me of grief and the feelings that accompany it.

Feelings come and go, buffet against my faith, threaten to kidnap my trust in God. There are short reprieves but then, almost without warning, feelings rise up again, threatening to drown me, churn me in the murky water, and slam me into shore. That’s why it is crucial I stand on truth and choose to trust thru times of grief and suffering.

This loss has shown me trust is something I must choose to do. If I do not want to be a prisoner to my feelings, and allow them to dictate what I believe, I must trust God even when I do not feel like it, even in times of suffering and confusion. Trusting God regardless of circumstance is a matter of my will. I am not dependent on my feelings, I do not have to wait until I feel like trusting God. In fact as I move forward in trust, pray, read His word, and depend on the Holy Spirit to enable my trust, I believe the feelings will follow.

Trust is like the pillars, holding up the pier I can see in the distance.  If I were to cling to those pillars as the waves beat against me, they would bring steadiness against the buffeting waves. Just like the pillar, as I cling to trust, even though feelings swirl around me like the tumultuous waves, I will not be shaken. I will stand solid and firm, as the pier does, due to its pillars. The pillars prevent the waves from moving the pier with the rising and ebbing tide.

Trust is not passive, something that happens to us. No, it is a vigorous act of the soul, like grabbing ahold of a solid pillar. As if our soul life depends on it, we grab ahold of the promises of God, put our trust in them, and cling to them despite the waves that threaten to overwhelm us.

Psalm 91:2 “I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.”

Choosing to trust will not necessarily remove the pain of suffering. But trust will serve as a refuge and fortress, preventing me from drowning in the waves of despair. Choosing to trust, will prevent my feelings from having the final word on what I believe. Choosing to trust, will bring a steadiness when feelings threaten to toss me to and fro, like a raging sea.  Yes, Lord, I  will cling to and choose to trust…

I had a full life. Full of laughter. Full of joy. Full of hopes and dreams. Now, at times, life feels empty. A deep devastating emptiness devoid of purpose. Empty promises. Empty arms. Empty place at the table. Empty spot on vacations. Empty hopes and dreams.

But today I was reminded that sometimes empty can actually be good. God can use my emptiness. He fills emptiness with his power and life and strength.  Emptiness can be good when I come to Jesus to be filled.

When my life was full, it was easy to forget my need for Jesus. A full life made it hard to see my desperate need to be filled with Jesus daily. The need was always there, but I didn’t always hunger and thirst for Christ as I should have, because I felt full.  I was filled up, satiated with the world’s cuisine, satisfied.

But in this empty place, void of my resources, my strength, my ability to fix things, it is easy to see my need to be filled with Jesus.  Emptied by this devastating loss in my life, Christ’s power can move in and fill the emptiness. He can fill me with contentment when life doesn’t give me what I think I need and deserve. He can fill me with joy in the midst of crushing sadness. He can fill me with rest when turmoil fights to be my constant companion. He can fill me with His strength to endure whatever comes my way.

Is it possible to find peace in a place of such emptiness? It seems incomprehensible! And it will be, unless I fill my emptiness with Jesus. Oh Lord, fill my emptiness and void with the love and power of Christ today.  Show me He really is enough for a full life. Help my heart to apprehend the truth that Jesus can fill the empty spaces.

Verbiage. It’s a strange thing.  But I believe it matters.  The way we say things reveals our heart, what we truly believe.  Matthew 12 :34 says, For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. 

That’s why I find it difficult these days to know what to say.  I want to speak truth.  I want my verbiage to match what I truly believe in my heart.  But I am afraid if I do that people will think me strange.  And while that has never bothered me before, much to my children’s chagrin, I do not want people to disregard what I am saying because it sounds like “crazy religious” talk.  I can hear the whispers now, “Oh, she just says it that way because it makes her feel better.”  But that’s not it at all!  I want to speak truth, the whole truth, and the truth that reflects the reality of the situation.

When people ask about Grant, it feels strange to say, “when Grant died.”  Not because I am in denial. Not because it’s too painful. But because the right verbiage is important. Saying “the day Grant went home” or “the day he entered into the Kingdom of God” is a more accurate statement. It is the truth. It bears hope and there is future in those words. Die, is an end, sounds final. Like its the last word. It’s not an accurate picture of what happened. But if I talk that way people are going to think I am the crazy lady. Oh, her…yeah, she’s a little off on the count that she lost her son.

Here are some more recent examples; questions and conversation that were once effortless are now so perplexing…

While making reservations recently, a stranger asked me if all of our kids would be home for Christmas.  My answer, “One is already home, the other 3 will be with us.” I could feel their brow furrow thru the phone as they tried to figure out what I meant.

How many kids do you have. What should my answer be? Obviously, I have 4 kids. But what they are really asking is, “how many kids do you have here.”  So is my answer 3? Obviously not…I can’t say that, so I say 4.  And then the inevitable happens…a follow up question.  Oh, wonderful, what are their ages?”  Again, I am perplexed as to what I should say.  Do I tell them how old Grant would have been? Do I just tell them we had a son that died when he was 24?

Or what about this one, “Are your children still living at home, or are you empty-nesters?” My answer…”One’s already home with his Heavenly Father, one’s in Florida, and two still live with us.”

In the future, do I say, “May 5th is the anniversary of Grant’s death.” Or rather, “May 5th is the anniversary of his homecoming.” Or do I say, Grant died “x” number of years ago on May 5th? I think you know by now what I want to say.

I want to speak truth, but I don’t want to make people feel awkward, sorry they asked.  So if anyone has walked this road before me, and you have good answers to these questions, and all of the questions coming up, please pass them along.  Or I may just get tagged the crazy religious lady, which really, may not be so bad.

This is a verse I have struggled with since May 5th. The Lord has brought it to mind many times.  “Give thanks, Lord? For this? I understand it’s your will, and I am choosing to trust that will, day-by-day in new and deeper ways.  But give thanks, you can’t be serious!”

1st Thessalonians 5:18  Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

I truly believe, that it is only a grateful heart that has the faith to move forward. And gratitude gives birth to trust. So every time the Lord has brought this verse to mind, I would struggle to obey it. But it always ended in struggle and tears, and I would inevitably end up telling Him, “I’m sorry, I can’t, I just can’t.  You’re asking too much.  Maybe someday I will be able to thank you for this, but not today.”

Well, He brought it to mind again today, while I was putting on my make-up.  “Why won’t You let this drop?” I muttered to myself.  I went to my Bible and opened it, and read again and again, with tears streaming down my face, “give thanks in all circumstances.” And then I saw it for the first time!  It says, “give thanks IN all circumstances.”  It doesn’t say “give thanks FOR all circumstances.” I am not a Biblical scholar, so maybe in the original language there isn’t much difference between these two prepositions.  But for me, today, there is a world of difference!

I don’t think God is asking me to thank him for Grant’s death.  Nor to thank him for the gruesome way in which he died.  I don’t think God is asking me to thank him that Grant died alone, without the love of his family surrounding him.  God is a God of sorrows, He knows my pain.  He has suffered in every way that I have suffered, and more.  No, I do not think He is asking me to thank him for Grant’s death.

But I do believe there are things, even IN this circumstance, that I can be thankful for.  That is what He wants me to see.  Regardless of the road the Lord walks me down, even this one through the shadow of the valley of death, I have reasons to thank Him.

Lord, I am thankful that you are sustaining my faith through this, drawing me closer and more dependent on you thru this circumstance.  I am thankful that I am learning to trust you even when I disagree and don’t understand.  I am so thankful that this circumstance has loosened the grip of my affections for the things of this world and made me long for the things of your eternal Kingdom in a way I never knew was possible. I am thankful that you truly are a God that never leaves nor forsakes, but rather brings comfort and peace that transcends understanding.  And I am sure as time moves forward more reasons for thanksgiving will be revealed.

Yes, Lord, I can see; because of who you are and because of what you’ve given me in Christ, there will always be reasons to give thanks, even in this circumstance…

Sitting on the beach today. Grant should have been sitting here with me. Both of us, book in hand, talking about this and that. Watching him play volleyball with his little sister. Reluctantly agreeing to ride bikes with me up and down the boardwalk, Him praying I wouldn’t run into someone and embarrass him! Body surfing and swimming out past the wave breaks with his dad. But instead, I sit here with an aching heart, a pit in my stomach, and his memory. My new normal, living around the gap…

In moments like this one life can seem insurmountable. I am 52 years old. I might have to live another 30 years with this, the new normal. It sometimes seems impossible, and I buck against the thought. I don’t want to do that…it’s too long, it’s too much, it’s too tiring. But then I glance down at me feet, toes tucked into the sand. I see the hundreds of little grains of sand on my skin and think of the trillions of grains on this beach.

As I focus on one grain of sand, it occurs to me that, that one grain of sand is just like my life span. My soul lives for eternity, forever and ever with no end. If I compare eternity with the 80 years or so I have here, that’s like pulling one grain of sand off of the beach and setting it next to every other grain of sand in the world. There is no comparison! This life, here on Earth, really is a blink of an eye, a fleeting breath, when compared to our eternity with Christ.

This life is all I know, so at times it can seem infinite, it can seem like this is all there is, and it can seem like such a long time until I reach Heaven. But it’s a single grain of sand!  This may seem melancholy but I believe there is great value in remembering the brevity of life.  It is wise for me to think about the shortness of this life and the infinite length of the next. It brings me comfort and there is scarcely any thought that purges my priorities of hollow and worldly perceptions and expectations like the thought of Grant’s brief life, my imminent death, and my eternal life to come.

Grant’s life was a short one, by today’s standards.  And the pain of missing him is still sometimes more than I think I can bear. But in reality, regardless of how long any of us live, it is but a grain of sand.  This life will be over in a blink. The life we were meant to long for, cherish, and anticipate is our eternal life with Christ. Our eternal life is truly the one that matters. And because of Jesus, I know what Gran’t eternity looks like, what my eternity looks like. The trillions of grains of sand, have been purchased by our Savior.  So as I sit here today, looking at my sandy feet, missing Grant so much my heart hurts, I will take comfort in knowing that this life is but a single grain, and we have trillions of grains together coming our way.

Events once celebrated, still celebrated by most families, have now become a test of endurance for us. We leave for vacation tomorrow. A vacation that Grant was scheduled to join us, share in our fun and memories. And now instead, only memories of Grant will accompany us on our adventure. He will be there in some sense, as we will all carry him with us in our hearts. But his physical absence will be with us as well. Everyday, every event, a reminder he’s not with us here.

Somewhere along the line I started to think this life owed me happiness, like one continuous vacation.  When did American culture start to believe we deserve a perpetually carefree, happy comfortable life?  And if we are indeed expecting life to deliver this untroubled merry adventure, when life fails to deliver, what does that do to our view of life and indeed God Himself?

God’s word never promises the Christian life will be an easy or happy one.   There will be a peace that surpasses understanding (Philippians 4:7), a joy that brings strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and a hope that abounds (Romans 15:13). But scripture never promises happiness, or riches, or ease, or perfect health, or comfort, or long life with all of your loved ones surrounding us.  In fact it states quite the opposite.

But man is born to trouble as surely as the sparks fly upward.  Job 5:7

Trials, hardships, and suffering will come.  But rather than bringing a life of despair they are meant to increase my faith and strengthen my trust in God.  They are meant to create a hunger and anticipation of life to come in eternity, where there is no more pain. They are meant to increase our affection for Christ, because He has made the way to eternity for us. But I must have that hope in front of me at all times, and it must be vibrant and sure, or suffering will overwhelm me and bring despair with it.

So I will try and use this vacation to make me freshly grateful that this life is temporary and that my God has secured for me an eternal life, that is like an endless vacation!  May it also remind me that in heaven there are no more trials, no more good byes, no more sorrow.  There is no pain here on earth that Heaven doesn’t fix…now that’s a vacation!

Grace, what is it?  It’s a word we throw around quite a bit in our Christian verbiage. A quick google search will give you this definition: Grace is God’s unmerited favor. It is kindness from God we don’t deserve. There is nothing we have done, nor can ever do to earn this favor. It is a gift from God.

And there is even a acronym to help kids understand what grace is: God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.

And in Hebrews it even tells us that we can draw near to that grace with confidence: Hebrews 4:16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

So what does it mean to me today to “draw near to the throne of grace”? What does grace look like in my “time of need”?  Grace, gives me the courage and strength I need to go on when it feels like I can’t do this for one more day. Grace, helps me to believe the promises of God even when doubts and questions threaten to fill my mind with unbelief. Grace causes me to look to God’s word for rest and comfort when the voices around me and inside me try to convince me God cannot be trusted. Grace gives me the desire to sing God’s praises when I want to shout from the roof that He is not a good and loving God. Grace preserves my faith, when I want to walk away and denounce all that I have believed. Grace can generate joy in the midst of my greatest sorrow. Grace enables me to endure the loneliness, the missing, and the daily reminders of loss everywhere I turn. Grace keeps me believing that God is good and that He loves me. Oh, grace, grace, grace…I need your sustaining power, day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath!

It is God’s grace that gives me hope when I am tempted to hopelessness…grateful for grace today!

Yes, I will see him again…but not here.  Yes, I am grateful he is with his Savior, but I have empty arms here.  I know I will never understand God’s plans, but what about the plans we had, Grant had.  Yes, I know all things work together for good, that this will be used to work a grand goodness.  But we may not see that this side of Heaven, we may not see that here. We have heard a thousand times since Grant went to Heaven, “Praise God he is alive with Christ and you will see him again.” And I do praise God for that, everyday!!! Grieving without that, would truly be unbearable. It would be grieving without hope.

I am truly not trying to be irreverent, Lord.  Jesus, you ask me to believe that death is not the end of life. And I do believe that, with all of my heart, soul, and mind, You know I do!  But death is the end of a life here! No more late night talks, no more surprise phone calls, no first loves, no wedding, no job promotions, no babies with Grant’s bright smile and soft brown eyes. There is an end with death. An end to life here, as we know it. Our normal, must become a new normal. Something we don’t recognize, something we never wanted. Death is indeed a thief. It does not have the final word, but it does rob us, indeed!

I believe, no, I know, Grant would not leave Heaven and come back to Earth, so he could have a ‘fulfilling life’ here, before going to his Heavenly home. I know in my heart what he has now for outweighs anything earth has to offer. I am confident he doesn’t miss the things he could have had here, or feel regret for not experiencing them. I know that in my heart.

But I have days that there is a disconnect between my head and my heart. The 12 inches from head to heart feels a mile apart. Days when I am tempted to feel bitterness about my lot, or tempted to be angry at God. Days when someone says, “at least you will be reunited in Heaven” and it feels like a thin silver lining to a massive black cloud. A consolation prize.

Why couldn’t we have had a full, long, rich life with Grant and then all meet up in Heaven? Why did it have to be this way? Why are we all left here trying to figure out the new normal living around the gap? The “why” list seems endless with a life of its own that seems to grow over time.

I don’t know the answers to these questions.  I probably never will this side of Heaven. And when I get there, it probably won’t even matter enough to ask. But I have to get there, to Heaven. And some days, Heaven just feels so far away. I have to live each day I have left here, without Grant, and with constant reminders of what could have been.

But I can rest, even without the answers, because I know the God who has the answers. Look to Him, Alisa. I can have peace, when I fix my eyes on the prize that’s coming. Lord, make what lies ahead so clear and so glorious that it heals and comforts this weary heart, and protects me from anger, distrust, and unbelief. Help me to be so grateful and consumed with those things, that it leaves no room for bitterness about the things that death stole from us here. Help me to press on toward the goal, the prize of the upward call…this is what will silence the “why” questions! Help me to lay down the “could have beens” that now lie behind, and rest today in what lies ahead.  I don’t know “why,” and probably never will. But I know You, and You know why, and that is truly what I need to know.

Philippians 3:13-14 …But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.